


Common Sense

by Templarkommando



Series: Common Sense [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Post-Fallout 4, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 14:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Templarkommando/pseuds/Templarkommando
Summary: Egos flare in a tense meeting between Nora - the General of the Minutemen - and Brotherhood of Steel Elder Arthur Maxson. A diplomatic meeting starts to go sour when Maxson questions Nora's "betrayal" of the Brotherhood. Can Nora keep the peace after rogue elements in the Minutemen ambushed and murdered a Brotherhood Patrol?
Series: Common Sense [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212644
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Common Sense

4/17/2291 Boston, The Commonwealth 

The distant sound of a cockpit claxon assaulted her ears as the bulkhead door slammed shut against the wind outside. The gentle rocking of The Prydwen was still detectable, though the massive dirigible was moored securely above Boston International Airport. 

Nora Thomas might have once felt absurd in her present garb - the outdated military jacket, and tricorn hat of the Continental Army of what had once been the United States of America - but her uniform had become a symbol. It wasn’t a symbol of the United States of America any longer - only a handful of ghouls, the odd robobrain, and of course, the 243-year old general of the Minutemen could even remember the nation-state which had once claimed that title. In truth, that particular nation-state - The United States of America - had long since lost its way. It had been thus even when Nora had known it. 

Too many government entanglements into the private world of her citizens had contorted America into a nation that resembled the totalitarian states that America supposedly stood against. Nora had begun to realize that as she had wandered the wasteland for the last few years performing a kind of autopsy. That nation as conceived by her founders had - in truth - been dead long before the furnace of splitting atoms had desecrated its tomb in the Great War. It had died an ignominious death before Nora had ever known it. No, Nora’s uniform was a symbol of a new nation. A new revolution.

Nora grimaced, letting the memories of ancient politics fall away, and she straightened her uniform as she crossed the deck to receive a reluctant greeting from the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel.

“Elder Maxson,” she acknowledged.

“General Thomas.” 

Arthur Maxson nodded cautiously as Nora entered the room. He dragged out the word ‘General’ like it was intended as an insult. She extended her hand for a handshake, but Maxson seemed to not notice as he crossed his arms and turned to gaze out Prydwen’s port-side window. 

Nora had not been looking forward to this meeting. After the destruction of the Institute, the Brotherhood and the people of the Commonwealth had settled into an uneasy peace. The more fanatical citizens of the Commonwealth were - even now - calling for the Minutemen to drive the Brotherhood of Steel away. The Brotherhood had become something of a nuisance for the Boston area’s scavengers. The pubs from “The Bunker” in Sanctuary, to “The Dugout” in Diamond City, and across to “The Green Dragon” at the Castle were filled to the brim every night with patrons spinning tales about how the most valuable parts of their recent hauls had been snatched up at Brotherhood checkpoints due to their technological content. The Commonwealth was a powder keg and it desperately wanted to explode in the face of one Arthur Maxson. Nora was one of the few people - it seemed - that wanted to avoid that.

The Brotherhood sentiment couldn’t have been any better than that in the Commonwealth. Last week, reports had arrived in Sanctuary that an entire Brotherhood patrol had been gunned down in an ambush along the road east of Abernathy Farm. .45 caliber rounds - coincidentally the near-universal round of the Minutemen - had been used in a suspiciously organized strike which had killed every single knight and scribe, and the leading paladin with it. Whoever had set the ambush - Nora had her own suspicions - hadn’t suffered nearly the same setbacks. 

The tactics had even been right out of the Minutemen playbook. The ambush’s lightly armored soldiers had hit from the tree-line behind sandbags and other debris on one side. As the Brotherhood charged the entrenched positions, they hit landmines in front of them… just as the second force had opened up from the safety of a building back across the road. Nora had been furious when she’d found out, but that didn’t help this situation. Maxson wanted heads to roll, and Nora was in no place to make that happen - even assuming that she wanted to.

“Would you like to start, or should I?” she asked.

“I think I would like to begin if it’s all the same to you.” He replied, turning to look at her once again. “Has there been any progress in the investigation?”

“There are a few leads, but so far, nothing has panned out.”

Maxson’s face contorted with an angry furrow of his brow. “Perhaps I should send in a regiment to investigate. Maybe someone competent.” He challenged.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” she said.

“And why not?”

Nora sighed. Maxson knew why he couldn’t, but unfortunately, Maxson was also a hothead that wanted blood.

“Because an investigation would require you to send armed soldiers into territory owned by the people of the Commonwealth and any military adventure there would likely result in the Commonwealth Provisional Government ordering a muster of the Minutemen to repel the invasion, and neither of us want a war.”

Maxson grunted angrily and whirled away - once again looking out the port-side window toward the Castle. He stared for a long moment with his hand against the glass. 

The presence of Brotherhood personnel on Commonwealth soil was already a contentious issue among the Minutemen - many of whom claimed that the Brotherhood patrol should have been viewed as an invasion to begin with. While Nora sympathized with that reasoning, she had intentionally issued rules of engagement that would have avoided this kind of situation. 

“Neither of us wants a war, right? I’m right about that, right?” she asked.

“It’s not that.” Maxson half-whispered. “There are just some things I don’t understand. You were a Brotherhood Paladin. How could you do this?”

Nora raised her right eyebrow. “How could I do what?”

Arthur glanced back for a moment before returning his gaze again. “How could you betray us like this, just so you can play at being a soldier?”

“I guess I still don’t understand why you think of this as a betrayal, Arthur. The whole thing happened pretty quick. You know that. Most Paladins spend years or decades reaching that rank, and you had me in a suit of T-60d with people saluting me inside of a month. I guess that I’d decided that since Danse and Haylen had been so reasonable, that you would be too. It’s not my fault that I was one of your higher-ranking field officers before I realized what you really stood for.”

“What we really stand for” Maxson interjected, “is a hope for the future of America. Humanity destroyed itself through technology, and it can again if it is not handled responsibly.”

Nora could have responded a number of ways. Part of her really wanted to call Maxson out for not really wanting a future for all of America - as the ghosts of numerous ghouls and synths could attest - but she really wanted to avoid upsetting the Brotherhood’s Elder more than was strictly necessary.

“You know what I mean.” She objected. “After being raised to such a high rank, it was suddenly very odd for me that I was expected to confiscate technology off of totally innocent people, and I was expected to eliminate certain classes of people that hadn’t wronged me or anyone else as far as I could tell. I hope that you can understand how weird that felt to me - you know, with my legal background and all.”

“That’s another thing,” Maxson said. “You were a lawyer. Doesn’t that mean that you were responsible for making sure that people faced justice?” 

Nora sighed again. “In a manner of speaking, Arthur. I wasn’t a prosecutor. I was a defense attorney - at some times, I was even a public defender. It was my job to make sure that everyone, from the highest mafia kingpin to the lowest dregs of society got their day in court. They got a chance to tell their side of the story, and - at least back then - the government couldn’t come down on you when it couldn’t prove that you had done anything wrong… hopefully, you can see why that made synths and ghouls so sympathetic from my perspective.”

“But they’re synths, Nora. They’re not even human.”

“You know… it’s funny that you say that. I remember reading that you’ve been dealing with synths since you discovered their existence in D.C. about a decade ago, and even now - with all of your technological edge - you still can’t tell the difference between a synthetic human and the home-made version without cutting heads off. As far as I’m concerned, that’s probably the best possible evidence that you could have for their humanity that anyone’s likely to find.”

“That’s not true.” said Maxson frankly. “We have the records of every synth that the Institute made, and soon that threat will be completely eliminated.”

“No, it’s true.” Nora retorted. “The Railroad’s been reprogramming synth memories since before you discovered that synths were even a thing. No record that the Institute has can tell you who is or is not a Railroad reprogrammed synth. In addition, you and I both know that there’s a good chance that there are decades-old logs that the Institute had that were corrupted before any of us could get our hands on them. That’s another reason why we keep getting occasional rogue synths.”

“The ‘Railroad.’” Maxson mimicked. “If it weren’t for your assistance, and your refusal to out them, that gang of incompetents would have been done for long ago.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” said Nora - who carefully did not add the story of Deacon very competently stalking her all the way south from Vault 111 with a series of disguises. She had only realized this after the fact when Deacon slipped and told a story about Nora from before she and Deacon had met. “Besides, you should be glad that we haven’t outed the Railroad.”

“What on earth would ever give you that idea?”

“Well… the biggest part of it would be the fact that Minutemen honor our agreements.”

“A fat lot of good your agreements are doing our dead patrol,” Maxson replied sarcastically.

Nora met the anger in Maxson’s face with a level and unemotional gaze. “Elder Maxson, our investigators - notably Preston Garvey himself - are turning over every rock and looking behind every bush around the Abernathy Farm to get you an answer, and you may rest assured that when we find the responsible party, they will be no safer from us than they would be from you. That said, we aren’t going to throw the rule of law out the window for anyone.”

Maxson closed his eyes as he turned to look back at Nora. “Garvey, huh? That doesn’t do a lot for me, but I guess you’re taking this seriously.” he conceded at long last.

“Well, then I think my mission is accomplished, Elder Maxson. At least, for today.”

Maxson rolled his eyes. “If that’s the case, then I won’t keep you any longer, General.” his voice didn’t catch on her rank as it had earlier.

Nora turned to leave, but something stopped her, and she faced Maxson again. “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Ask.” He said. 

“You once told me that I couldn’t have a better recommendation than the one that I had from Danse. As far as I can tell, you thought of him as the Brotherhoodiest of the Brotherhood. Danse used to eat, sleep, and breathe the Brotherhood. You know? How could you hurt him like you did?”

Maxson faltered for a moment as he considered his words. His expression was the one of a man who knew that he had made a mistake, but couldn’t go back on a decision once it was made.

“Why are you so interested? Do you think we should take him back? Why? So you can have a spy in my camp?” Maxson finally replied.

Nora raised a confused eyebrow at the Elder. “If you really knew Danse - if you really truly knew him - you would know that he would never have turned on you - even under torture or in return for anything that anyone could ever give him.”

The sad truth was that Danse had become something of a charity case for about a year after the Brotherhood had uncovered evidence that Danse was a synth. Nora still didn’t completely trust the Institute’s file on Danse. It was possible - in Nora’s mind - that a smart enough Institute intelligence person might have planted the information that Danse was a synth in the event that their underground complex was compromised in some way. Said counter-intelligence agent probably wouldn’t have suspected the total capture of the Institute, but perhaps a defector, or a spy could have put hands on that information and taken it back to the Brotherhood. It was still possible that Danse was a synth, but even if he was one, that wouldn’t have changed Nora’s mind. 

For a year, Danse had made himself utterly useless. He had been a regular at every bar in the Commonwealth, often in the process of drinking himself under the table. It wasn’t until Nora had found him weeping himself to sleep in a gutter late one evening that she had finally intervened successfully. Danse had found something of a new purpose. Even without Nora’s help, Maxson’s betrayal wouldn’t have kept a man like Danse down for long. 

However sad the situation was, the Commonwealth had got the better end of Maxson’s betrayal. The Minutemen now had the best power armor instructor on the face of the planet - at least as far as Nora was concerned. 

Nora could see that Elder Maxson was determined to make his decision stick. The command to oust Danse from the Brotherhood had been final, and though it was tragic that Danse had had to deal with that trauma, Nora was at peace with it. It’s Maxson’s loss.

“You know,” she said, “just…. forget I said anything.” 

Any further pushing on the topic would have exacerbated the already strained Brotherhood-Commonwealth relations, and besides, Nora already had her answer. Arthur was a sociopath and couldn’t feel any actual remorse for his actions. Sure, he could realize that he had made a strategic mistake by giving away a power armor instructor or that his betrayal of a loyal officer had hurt morale, but actually being cognitively aware that he had hurt someone that had been unshakably loyal… someone that had loved him as a brother might… that was beyond Arthur Maxson’s emotional maturity. 

Moments later, after exchanging parting trivialities, Nora was deposited ground-side courtesy of the Brotherhood Flying Corps. After making her way down the street and around a bend in an alley, Nora removed a hand-held radio from her pack. 

“Hey Ronnie, you there?” she asked as she keyed the com.

“Sure am, General! How did the meeting with ol’ Max-head go?” asked Ronnie Shaw - using a title referring to the size of Maxson’s ego.

“Everything’s fine, Ronnie.” Nora replied - rolling her eyes.

“Glad to hear it, General.” said Shaw. “Hurry on home. Cook says there’s Mirelurk Surprise for supper.”

Nora put the radio back in her pack and mentally relaxed. That phrase - “Mirelurk Surprise” - had been the code phrase signalling no less than four artillery batteries that they could stand down now. As a precaution, Hancock had suggested keeping a homing beacon on Nora during these kinds of meetings. Such a beacon would make it a lot easier to target the Prydwen if Maxson ever felt tempted to arrest Nora… or worse. In such a case, it would be possible for Ronnie, or Preston… or heck... anyone really to deliver an ultimatum to the “Bossies” (as they had become known of late in the Commonwealth due to the abbreviation B.O.S. and the nuisance that they posed to local scavvers). 

Nora really didn’t want a war. War was vicious and cruel and typically victimized innocents - from the people fighting, to the civilians that got caught in the cross-fire. People... people could change. They could make up their minds to do the right thing given the right reasons or incentives. Nora was trying to give Maxson the right reasons. But war…. War never changes.


End file.
